


Tangled Webs

by thatstarlitsky



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Don't Like Don't Read, Dont read this if you have arachonophobia, Giant Spiders, Grieving, Jorōgumo, M/M, Mentions of Death, Monsters, Prehensile Tongue, Superstition, Touch sensory hallucinations, this fic is lowkey sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatstarlitsky/pseuds/thatstarlitsky
Summary: For centuries, Jongho’s village has been plagued by a Jorogumo. Every few years, the hidden monster leaves a scratch on the house of a young man it wants. The village must answer, or it will destroy them all in search of him. With Jongho living with nobody but his mother and sister, when the scratch appears on his front door, there’s no question of who the Jorogumo wants next.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Choi San
Comments: 45
Kudos: 213





	Tangled Webs

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE ARACHONOPHOBIC TURN BACK NOW.**  
This story contains a spider-human hybrid who is honestly more spider than human. I've warned you. Don't like, don't read.

He’d thought nothing of the grating scratch in the dead of night. While the noise had woken him, Jongho had subconsciously assumed it was his older sister Junghee. She often stayed up burning candles and practicing her reading and writing, and sometimes the chair scraped when she stood up to finally go to bed.

He sighed quietly into his pillow, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was to his mother’s scream. Jongho barely thought; he dove for the whittling knife on his bedside table and threw himself towards his bedroom door.

“What’s happening?” His sister asked groggily.

“I don’t know,” Jongho said. “Stay behind me.”

Junghee sniffed, but did as she was told. She held a letter opener in her hand – useless in a real fight, but Jongho had little doubt she knew how to make it work.

Downstairs, his mother was slumped against the wall next to the open front door. Junghee rushed past him to pull her to her feet. Jongho froze at the bottom off the stairs, the knife falling from his fingers with a soft thud.

“Mrs. Choi? Mrs. Choi...?” Someone was calling. Jongho only faintly heard it. His eyes were locked on the door.

The scratching – the sound of splintering wood...

“Oh—”

“Oh no...”

His mother began to wail once more. Jongho just stared, unblinking – as though if he stared long enough it would go away.

The village elder, Han Kangwoo, stepped into the house. He looked towards Jongho before his gaze fell onto the mangled door. His expression darkened.

The scratch was deep, brutal, and unmistakable. When the Jorogumo struck, it was with a slow, deliberate stroke that ripped and tore through wood like paper. The door would need to be replaced. That was Jongho’s job – manual labour had been his duty since his father died in a thatching accident six years prior.

But now, he wouldn’t be around to do it. Someone else’s son would have to repair his mother’s door. Someone else would have to take care of his family.

“He must go, Kyunghee,” Kangwoo said.

“M-My son—my _only_ son—”

“I know,” Kangwoo said. _He is not the first only son to be taken,_ he didn’t say, even though everyone knew it to be true. “But he _must_.”

Junghee finally broke. Her tears were worse than their mother’s. Jongho took a heavy breath and held it.

He would not cry. If he had to go, he would walk out with his head up. He had sworn over his father’s grave that he would protect his family in his place – sworn that for as long as he drew breath, his mother and sister would be safe. Doing this – facing the Jorogumo – would be his last act of that vow.

Kangwoo turned towards him and offered him a weak smile. “Jongho—”

“I know,” Jongho interrupted.

Kangwoo nodded and stepped back towards the door. “I’ll...leave you to your goodbyes. We will take care of your mother and sister. We promise you this.”

Jongho swallowed and nodded. His mother’s sobbing worsened, and his sister choked. Junghee hesitated, and then stepped towards him. Her arms were thin, but they had enough force to squeeze the wind out of him. Jongho held her close and massaged the back of her head the way he always did when she was crying. She sobbed into his shoulder.

His mother detached herself from the wall and stumbled over to them. She dragged them both into a painful hug – and Jongho’s throat closed up as he realized this would be the last time she would hold them both in her arms. He closed his eyes.

He would not cry.

“Be brave, mother,” Jongho encouraged, pressing a kiss to her damp cheek.

“It’s you,” his mother replied tearily. “_You_ are the one who was always brave. Not me.”

“You will be. Don’t be afraid,” he said, giving her one more kiss. _I am terrified, mother,_ he thought, but he did not say it. “I’ll think about you. And I’ll see you again. I’ll meet you at the gates with father, and then, we’ll all wait for Junghee.”

She sobbed yet again and held him tighter. Jongho let her. They had until sunset before the Jorogumo came down the mountain to collect him himself. The hike up to the Jorogumo’s lair would take most of the day. If he ran, Jongho could make it in half that time. He would give his mother and sister this much – as much time as they needed to say goodbye. Jongho needed it too.

But he wouldn’t cry.

Jongho packed a small bag; enough food for a hike up the mountain, and the whittling knife he had dropped earlier. It had been his fathers, and he wanted to take it with him. The village saw him off, dressed in mourning black. Jongho cast one, final look at the place he’d called home and turned away to climb the mountain. He set a brisk pace, vanishing into the trees rather than take the worn pathway. He didn’t want anyone watching his figure disappear up the mountain. It would be physically harder for him, but it meant nobody would be able to torture themselves by watching him vanish into the distance.

The sun had only just started sinking when Jongho reached the Jorogumo’s lair. He had enough time to stop and finish off the last of the bread he’d packed, savouring the flavour as he said goodbye to the last things he needed to.

He sat to watch the sun set on his final day. He watched colours explode pink and orange over purple and grey clouds. He stretched his legs out and touched his toes, letting his muscles burn as he marked every last part of himself. As he released the stretch, he said goodbye. He said goodbye to his legs; his arms; his chest...he ran his hands through his hair and breathed deeply. The scent of pine and fresh grass filled his lungs. He said goodbye to that too.

He let go.

Then, he stood, and turned to face his end.

The Jorogumo’s cave was blacker than night, and lined with cobwebs that fluttered in the wind. The nearby trees and bushes lingered dead or dying beneath thick tufts of spider silk. The placid white gleamed silver in the moonlight; deceptively innocent, like unicorn hair. The ambiance of the night time forest did not follow him here. The chirp of crickets was a distant echo from another time.

As Jongho approached the cave, his heart pounded violently against his chest. He could no longer feel his feet; he felt as though he was walking on unstable air. The smell of damp, and of earth and something oddly sweet slid from the cave in a pantomime of breath. Jongho pulled his arms tighter against himself. The cobwebs lined the stony floor of the cave, too. Jongho tentatively touched it with the toe of his boot to check if it was sticky. It crackled like fallen leaves beneath his weight. Jongho winced, and cast one, final glance back at the mountaintop forest and stepped into the cave.

It was like being swallowed – like entering the mouth of the earth itself. Jongho had never been afraid of the dark, but with the cloying scent of sweet earth smothering his breath, it felt even more oppressive. His footsteps on the cobwebs was the sound of an axe felling a tree – a signal that death would soon follow. He felt tendrils of soft webs brush against his face and shoulders. His breath caught, and he had to force himself to keep moving.

The sound of scratching met his ears, the cadence not dissimilar to the tapping of fingertips against a table. His nerves broke, and Jongho froze in place. His knees shook, and the webs brushing his cheek now seemed impassible. His breathing came too loud; too hard – it echoed in his ears and reminded him just how trapped he truly was. His mind darted a thousand ways, but the thought at the forefront of his mind begged _please don’t let it hurt_.

The scratching grew louder. Jongho squeezed his eyes shut, every nerve in his body firing as it waited for the strike that would end his life. Clicking and tapping; Jongho felt the air shift in front of him. _Father, please be with me,_ he begged.

Something new brushed along his cheeks. It wasn’t cobwebs. They were stiff, smooth and thin as a twig. They curled over his cheeks and Jongho stood perfectly still as he counted – eight in all – eight, long fingers brushing along his face with two spindly thumbs pressing just beneath his chin. He felt his pulse point pound against the weight of the touch. Jongho tried to exhale the breath he was holding, but it came out as a frightened whimper instead.

The fingers retreated. Jongho’s trembling only grew worse.

“I have been waiting for you,” a voice said – cold, yet strangely eager, with the faintest rasp of a hiss. Jongho felt the hairs on his neck rise. “Tell me your name.”

“J-Jongho,” he rasped, his voice pitched high. He was unsure of why he was even able to speak past the thickness in his throat. “Ch-Choi J-Jongho.”

“Jongho,” the voice repeated. His name sounded deadly on the Jorogumo’s tongue; exotic and foreign. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “I am San.”

The idea that the monster that plagued his village had a _name_ was enough to draw a breathy, nervous laugh from his throat. His knees began to shake once more. Hot tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. He quickly ducked his head to shake them away.

“The path to my home is treacherous up ahead,” San spoke. “I will carry you.”

“W-W—” Jongho tried to protest, but the long-fingered hands he’d felt along his cheeks abruptly wrapped around his hips and hauled him into the air. Cobwebs dangling from the ceiling tangled in his hair and tickled the back of his neck. Frightened, he groped for something to hold on to and found only the Jorogumo’s hands. He felt his stomach rise at the sensation of thin, willowy fingers with hairline cracks where the joins were. The fingers were hairless and solid – like bone, rather than flesh.

Then, he was deposited onto something broad and pitched forward. Jongho yelped, and wrapped his arms around the _thing_ in front of him. It was smooth and hairless, with the faintest trickles of warmth creeping over his palms. He could feel the bumps and ridges, solid beneath his fingers, but with just enough give that Jongho could feel the Jorogumo’s body move in the steady rhythm of breath. Beneath him, the Jorogumo began to walk. Jongho felt the chilling brush of legs against his hips. He held on tighter, and his fingers curled uselessly against the Jorogumo’s body.

In the darkness, vertigo took over. Jongho struggled to tell up from down, especially when gravity shifted at angles so steep, it felt as though they were walking straight down into the depths of the mountain. The Jorogumo’s body kept him from falling, and if he slid more than an inch one way or the other, one of his many legs lifted to nudge him back to center. Jongho wished he could see, but he also feared the sight of the creature he was clinging to like a lifeline.

The tunnel went on for what felt like hours. The further he went, the more he knew that nobody would be coming in after him. The crinkle of cobwebs became damp squelching, and the Jorogumo’s footsteps became as subtle as a cold draft. Jongho heard the sound of trickling water, and his eyes began to detect a faint, blue glow. When he opened his eyes, he saw bioluminescent mushrooms lining the walls. Thick clumps of algae and lichen grew on the round tops of scattered boulders. Intricate spiderwebs glistened with moisture and remained undisturbed even as the Jorogumo passed over them.

Hesitantly, Jongho looked up. He held back a weak, breathless sound. The skin beneath his hands was a shiny, deep grey. San’s body was vaguely humanoid, with thin hips that rose up to broad shoulders and thick arms that stretched ahead of them like antennae. His head, if Jongho could call it that, was covered in unevenly chopped shoulder length hair streaked with crimson red.

His knees were locked in the groove where San’s torso met his abdomen. From that groove protruded the eight, thick ebony legs that stretched longer than his body and tapered off to a point no thicker than his fingers. Each leg moved fluidly, and unless Jongho paid attention to only one, he quickly grew sick from the constant motion.

The Jorogumo lurched up one final hill and climbed up into a broad cave with a high ceiling. Fallen stones and tall stalagmites had been hewn into shelves and decorations, and glossy spider silk hung like curtains against the walls. In the middle of the floor was a small, flickering blue-gold flame that put off enough warmth to fill the room. The bioluminescent mushroom acting as fuel burned without smoke, and was the source of the sweet, earthy smell he’d caught outside of the cave.

Above him, stalactites hung with oval shaped sacs dangling from the tips within arms reach. Higher still, a thick, shimmering spiderweb stretched like a vaulted ceiling.

“Do you like it, Jongho?” San asked, turning his body to face him. Jongho let go of his chest and fell back against his round spider abdomen. San’s red streaked hair fell across his face in thick clumps. His sclera were a shade of golden yellow, and his pupil was nothing more than a dark slit. His skin was a stony pale grey. His mouth was a vivid red grin lined with sharp teeth and a pair of black fangs that extended past his lower lip.

Jongho’s breath caught as long, spindly fingers like spider’s legs stretched towards him. The Jorogumo’s hands were just as grey as the skin of his face, His fingertips curled against his forehead and picked a stray cobweb from his bangs. He discarded it as though it were nothing more than a leaf.

“What...What am I liking...?” Jongho asked, trying not to shake.

The Jorogumo’s grin widened, and then he gestured upwards, bringing his attention back to the spiderweb above their heads. Jongho tried to look at it – _really_ look at it – and see something more than a web. His eyes followed delicate curves and lines; woven shapes that once looked like noise but now looked like something more. It looked like the sky. Jongho could spot every cloud, fluffy and bright painted in silk, without a single blemish.

“You made that?” Jongho asked in awe, realizing how stupid the question was only after he’d asked it.

San laughed. The sound was shrill, like the screech of a hawk, but Jongho didn’t flinch. He just clutched onto the Jorogumo’s arm as he became unbalanced. The grey skin felt like half-baked clay – solid, but with the give of flesh and blood.

“Stupid question,” Jongho mumbled, embarrassed. He let go of San’s arm and wrapped his arms around himself again. “Sorry.”

San’s laughter died to soft chuckles. His delicate fingers stroked down his cheek. Jongho closed his eyes and suppressed a shiver.

“Yes. I made it for you,” the Jorogumo said.

“It’s beautiful,” Jongho admitted.

“Would you like me to take you closer?”

“I...yeah...okay.”

San grinned once more and took his wrists into his hands. He guided Jongho’s arms back around his waist to prompt him to hold on tight. Jongho locked his fingers together and pressed his cheek between the Jorogumo’s shoulders.

With a lurch, San began to climb. He used thick ropes of spider silk, his legs and hands clinging to the surface with easy touches. Jongho watched the stone floor of the cavern peel away as they climbed higher. His grip on San’s body was the only thing keeping him in place. He shivered and turned to face forward again, watching the spider silk mural emerge in full detail. The glow of the mushrooms turned the silk a misty shade of blue.

San’s legs reached the edge of the web and pulled them onto it. The spread of woven silk was large enough that even the Jorogumo could comfortably pace between the edges. He imagined those long fingers weaving silk for hours as he painted this picture. When it was close enough to touch, he leaned over and brushed his fingertips over a textured cloud. The silk felt like thick down feathers beneath his fingers. Traces of shimmering silk lingered in the grooves of his fingerprint.

“Go on,” San said, shifting his legs to allow Jongho to climb off. “It will take your weight.”

Considering it was barely budging beneath the Jorogumo’s legs, Jongho didn’t doubt that. Yet, he was still careful as he climbed off the spider’s back and touched his feet to the silk. It felt plush, like the ground after a hard rainfall. He’d taken only a handful of steps away from San before he could truly marvelled at the art beneath his feet. The squashy texture of the clouds turned into silken rivers of flawlessly woven sky. When Jongho crouched to feel it, he knew that no silk weaver had ever made anything quite so divine. Jongho felt something thick build in his throat.

“You...made this for...for _me?_” Jongho asked, turning towards San.

The Jorogumo hadn’t moved from his position. His legs were spread wide and solid, supporting his thick body. His torso, positioned upright, looked strange, yet natural as pale grey flesh turned into solid black exoskeleton at his hips. From this angle, Jongho could make out the shape of a blood red hourglass on the underside of San’s abdomen.

“Yes,” San replied easily and started towards him. Jongho sat entranced as he watched the Jorogumo move. San leaned forward to stretch his arms out in front of him. His long fingers clung to the web and guided him forward. His red streaked hair swung away from his yellow eyes.

“Why?” Jongho asked, instinctively leaning away and falling onto his back. Before he could stand, the Jorogumo was hovering over him. His black fangs glinted dangerously in the light of the mushrooms.

“Because I would like you to stay,” San replied, inching closer. Jongho’s heart skipped a beat. He could count San’s eyelashes and every sharp, gleaming tooth.

“Y-You’re not g-going to eat me?” Jongho asked.

“No,” San replied. “I do not want to eat you.”

Jongho didn’t know whether to be reassured, or even more terrified. If San was being truthful, then he wasn’t going to die today. He wouldn’t end up inside one of those silk sacs hanging down near the floor. He thought faintly of his family back home, mourning him – of the village elder who would be saying his funeral rites over an empty grave marked with an ‘X’ below his name, the way all Jorogumo victims were.

But if the Jorogumo didn’t want to eat him, then what _did_ he want?

“Are you still afraid, Jongho?” San asked. His legs and hands rustled against the silk next to him. His hair dangled low, just barely brushing Jongho’s forehead.

“I’m terrified,” Jongho breathed. “I...I don’t know what you want from m-me.”

“I told you,” San said, and Jongho trembled as one of those hands brushed along his cheek once more. “I would like you to stay with me. Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you.”

Jongho exhaled shakily, his eyes falling closed. His hands curled into the cloud of silk beneath his palms. San’s slender fingers traced his face. He tucked Jongho’s sweaty bangs away from his forehead and behind his ears. He touched Jongho’s eyelids and followed the steady contour of his nose. His lips parted as San’s thumbs brushed along the plush edges.

“This is wonderful, Jongho,” San said, and Jongho felt hot breath on the skin of his cheek. He resisted the need to open his eyes and discover just how close the Jorogumo’s face was to his. “You are wonderful. I have not met a man who did not scream at the sight of me for many centuries.”

“C-Can you blame them?” Jongho asked. He took a risk and opened his eyes. San’s nose was barely a finger’s width away from his. His heart pounded heavily in his chest. His breath quickened. A wave of panic pushed him to sink deeper into the web beneath him and he instinctively shoved his hands against the Jorogumo’s chest.

“No,” San replied. He looked away from Jongho’s face and down to the hands that trembled against his skin. He lifted himself high enough to take Jongho’s hands in his. The long, twig-like fingers curled around his palms like willow branches. “But maybe someday you will not tremble when I touch you.”

Jongho stared at their hands. His pale fingers were limp where San’s were firm. It seemed beyond him – that San’s words would ever come true. And yet, even as Jongho’s heart thundered in fear, San was patient. He touched him as though he were a piece of glass that would shatter if he pressed too hard. Though part of him didn’t believe he would ever stop being afraid, Jongho nodded his head. San’s smile almost comforted him – almost. If it weren’t for the row of sharp teeth and gleaming black fangs, Jongho might’ve returned it.

“You have had a long journey. You must rest now,” San said, and with an easy motion, he picked Jongho up and returned him to his back. “I have a nest prepared for you to rest in. Let us go to it.”

_Nest?_ Jongho clutched the Jorogumo’s back once more.

Going down the thread was scarier than going up. Jongho had to squeeze tightly just below San’s shoulders to keep himself from sliding headfirst down to the floor. Though he was certain his grip was strong enough to bruise a human, San didn’t flinch. He could feel his pulse in the veins at his wrists. They were nearly at the floor when Jongho realized his heart was beating too fast for the sensation to belong to him.

The Jorogumo had a heartbeat.

San carried him to a small nook at the side of the room, next to a carved shelf with wooden bowls. A mound of woven webs sat like a giant cushion, tucked solidly into the space. It was large enough to fit the Jorogumo, which meant it was more than enough for Jongho.

San let him climb down onto the nest. It was solid beneath his feet, but with the give of a sack full of hay. Slowly, Jongho sat down. The webbing was just as soft and silky as the cloud mural above his head.

San reached past him and pulled down a thick sheet of web and draped it around Jongho’s shoulders. It was warm and soft, and Jongho admired the craftsmanship of the silk weave. He wrapped it tighter around his body and tried not to look at the webbed sacs dangling around the room.

“I will not disturb you,” San promised. “I must leave this cave, but I will be back by dawn.”

Jongho could only nod. He didn’t have the heart to tell San he was too scared to sleep – in truth, he might always be.

He lied down amongst the webs and pulled the silk blanket tight against himself. San dimmed the lights by laying a stone bowl filled with holes over the fire. Then, Jongho watched numbly as San left the cave. Jongho stayed still until he could no longer hear the scratching of the Jorogumo’s many legs.

Then, Jongho wept. His sobs echoed pathetically around the cave, and the spider silk did nothing to wipe them away. He held his knees against his chest as he cried, thinking of his mother and sister back in the village who now had to survive without him; of his father, who he had hoped to meet in order to ease his fear of death. But now that death would not come, he could think only of his family – of the people he would never see again. He didn’t know if San would someday kill him, but until he knew, the unknown would terrify him.

He cried until he grew too exhausted to do so. He laid catatonic inside the spider’s nest, staring unthinkingly at the dim light of the fire until sleep finally snatched him away.

...

He dreamed of his village. He dreamed he was reaching for them – screaming for them – but they never once looked his way. He saw his gravestone – in memoriam; Choi Jongho – and the sprigs of holly left to protect his departed spirit. His sister wept over the grave – then it was his mother – and then it was his sister. Far away, he heard his father’s panicked scream just before the sickening _thud_ of a body on hard ground. His mother wept over his grave. His sister wept over his grave. The Jorogumo scratched his door. He heard the sound over and over before he realized _he_ was the door, and blood was pouring out of his chest. He clutched it desperately to keep it in, but he was falling—falling—falling into a pit and webs were clutching his arms and legs, keeping him from holding his life inside of him—

The ground rushed up. Jongho awoke fast enough that he fell dizzyingly onto the stone floor of the cavern. He laid there and gasped for breath. His hand found a palm-sized stone and gripped it tightly enough to make his fingers throb. He breathed deeply and focused on the the soft sound of dripping water and the earthy smell of the smouldering mushroom.

When his heartbeat settled, Jongho sat up and massaged his face. San was still away – and Jongho didn’t know whether to be glad for it or not. San was so hopeful about the calm façade Jongho had been wearing since he left his village; fooled into thinking he wasn’t as scared as he was. Jongho stared at the dark hole in the wall that lead out of this underground room. He could try to leave and climb his way out of here, but he still remembered the near vertical rises and falls of the Jorogumo’s cave. Jongho already knew he wouldn’t make it out without San’s help.

The mushroom had burned itself to embers. Jongho tentatively touched the stone basket to check the heat before plucking it off and setting it aside. In the dim light, Jongho searched the shelves to see if San had harvested any of the glowing mushrooms for the purpose of burning, or if he simply plucked them off the walls as he needed them. Though going through the Jorogumo’s things left his hands itching out of fear of finding something unpleasant, every silken bag he tugged open contained positively normal things. From time to time, he found an unidentifiable bone, or hunks of cured meat, and jars of pickled wild vegetables. But he never found anything Jongho would classify as _spider food_. Nervously, Jongho looked up at the hanging sacs again and sighed. Of course, the Jorogumo wouldn’t keep his food on a shelf. It was probably in those sacs, saved for a day when he was hungry enough to rip into them. He didn’t know why spiders wrapped up their food like that, he just knew they did. He’d watched one tangle up a fly with its long legs and leave it uneaten in its web.

Jongho found the mushrooms wrapped in sheets of silk. As he peeled the fine silk away, he was reminded of picking out a cheese wheel with the dairy farmer every winter. He ran his fingers over it, discovering the solid crust the mushroom had developed. It wasn’t glowing, but as he handled it, it cracked just enough that the soft blue glow began to leak out once more. Jongho brought it over to the fire pit and set to figuring out exactly how to light it.

The scratch of the Jorogumo’s legs startled him upright. He heard the soft squelching of feet in the underground stream. Jongho stood frozen, like a deer in winter sighted down the end of a crossbow, when San emerged from the tunnel. His golden sclera glowed in the faint light of the live mushrooms, and Jongho knew he was very much visible with one of the dried ones in his hand.

“I’m sorry—I woke up and it was dark, I just—” Jongho didn’t know why he was babbling. He cut himself off and swallowed. The mushroom squished slightly beneath his hand, and several more cracks appeared in the stiff crust. Jongho felt like he was holding magic in the palm of his hand. He tried not to feel too fascinated by it.

San smiled put down his load; a large silk bag with an oblong shape. Jongho felt his heart skip several, gut-wrenching beats. _What’s in the bag?_ He wanted to know – but he didn’t want to know. It wasn’t moving, but Jongho didn’t want to find out if it once had been.

San gently took the mushroom from his hand. “There is a small broom next to the shelf you found this on, and a fire strike on the top shelf.”

Jongho nodded and went over to get them. It made sense. He didn’t need to be told what to do with the broom or the striker. He carefully swept the old coals out of the fire pit and caught them in a dirty silk bag, similar to the one Jongho had used back home. Cleaning the hearth was oddly domestic, and Jongho’s fingers trembled as he scraped the flint over the mushroom. It caught almost instantly without the aid of tinder. The flame started red and smoky before it transitioned to clear and blue. It was pleasantly warm without being overwhelming.

“It will take time before it is hot enough to cook with,” San said, returning to his bag. “But I have brought you something to eat.”

Surprised, Jongho looked up just as San gently set the silk bag down next to him. Food? For him? He tentatively opened the bag and found wild carrots and onions and in a separate bag, the fresh carcass of a rabbit. While it was a once-living thing, as he had nervously expected, the sight was familiar. He used to snare rabbits in the woods out back when food was scarce. His father had taught him how to clean them.

“I’m...going to need a knife,” Jongho said, looking up at San.

The Jorogumo stared. His red lips thinned over his fangs. Jongho suppressed a shiver.

But then, San turned to one of his shelves. It was a high one Jongho wouldn’t be able to reach without help. San’s spider legs allowed him to cling easily to the wall as if it were a floor. When he returned, he held out a leather case of hunting knives. The strap came undone with a few twists and the blades glinted in the firelight.

Jongho selected the correct one and checked the edge with his fingertip before starting the familiar, blissfully nostalgic task. San hovered over him, watching without a word. His eyes were on the knife, his sclera dark. His once thin pupils were dilated. Jongho chewed nervously on his lip as he cleaned the blade.

“What?” Jongho finally asked.

“Nothing,” San responded.

Jongho knew he was lying. He looked to the expertly prepared rabbit, then to the gleaming knife. He shifted the knife in his hand – and San’s eyes followed the blade. He wasn’t watching the rabbit.

“You’re afraid of knives,” Jongho stated. “Aren’t you?”

It was cathartic to see the way San’s eyes darkened even further. His long legs shifted him back – away from Jongho, and the flawless knife. The Jorogumo feared something, just the way Jongho feared him. There was a middle ground – something they both understood. Despite that, San’s fear made him feel sad rather than liberated. He wondered if this was how the Jorogumo had felt when he watched Jongho shake with fear when he’d done nothing but exist in a frightening countenance.

“I won’t hurt you,” Jongho promised. And then he gently slid the knife back into the case and folded it up. It felt strange to use the same words the Jorogumo had said to him earlier – strange to make a promise to the thing that had taken him away from his family. But San had kept his word, and was taking care of him. He’d made him a mural, given him a bed, and brought him something to eat. Subconsciously, Jongho had already accepted that perhaps San wasn’t all bad. But seeing that something truly frighten the Jorogumo told him that San did have emotions. In some ways, perhaps the Jorogumo was like him.

With the knives out of sight, San’s iris began to turn back into gold sclera. The fidgety click of his back legs began to settle.

“The last man to touch those knives tried to kill me,” San said, looking down at the leather case and back up to Jongho’s face. “He brought them into my cave and when I was asleep, he pierced my skeleton.”

San’s hand shifted, and though the motion was subconscious and his fingers quickly retreated to hide the location of his weakness, Jongho still saw it: a pale crack in San’s chest. His attacker had tried to pierce his heart. He had missed, but it had been a near one.

“What did you do to him?” Jongho asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I killed him.” San replied. “He was like you. He showed no fear. But he was waiting, and I was a fool.”

Jongho thought of the small bag still tied to his hip and the whittling knife inside it. He hesitated, then slowly pulled it out. The blade was still wrapped in it’s leather guard, but San recoiled with a series of clicks and scratches. His eyes darkened once more, and Jongho caught sight of a black tongue flicking over his fangs as the Jorogumo hissed angrily.

“This belonged to my father,” Jongho said, holding it flat in his palms. “I thought I was going to die, so I wanted to have this with me. It’s the one thing I have left of him. I was going to show my father how much I learned when I saw him at the gates.”

“You have brought a _blade_ into my home!” San hissed, but made no move towards him.

“It’s for woodcarving,” Jongho said with a grimace. “But...now we have no secrets. You know I have it.”

“And this is supposed to make me feel _better_?” San growled.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” Jongho said, stuffing the knife back into his bag. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

“And I am supposed to believe you did not bring this _blade_ with the intent to hurt me?”

“And I am supposed to believe you won’t hurt _me_?” Jongho questioned. “You have fangs; you’re bigger than me – you could probably tear me into a thousand pieces before I can even scream. I came here to die – I thought that was what you wanted. It’s what we _all_ thought you wanted.”

San blinked. His legs clicked more intensely.

“The graveyard in my village is filled with the names of young men marked with X’s dating back decades,” Jongho said. “Now mine is there too – and we all believed that you were killing us and eating us – not keeping us alive in your home. Are you surprised that some of us chose to bring weapons? I’m not – I’m sure some men believed they would kill you and free the village from this curse. _I_ just wanted to protect my family. I came here to die, so I brought my father’s knife so he would be with me. I couldn’t wait to see him again – but now I am here, in a cave with you while my mother and sister sit alone at home grieving my death.”

“You are crying.”

Jongho wiped his face. His palm came back wet. He surrendered. He pressed his hands to his face and sobbed. His heart ached for the family he’d lost, and for the family he still had to wait to see once more. He breathed deeply and tried to pull himself together again. He wiped his eyes with his wrists, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Would you rather I kill you?” San asked.

Jongho sniffled and didn’t answer. He didn’t fear death, but he worried about what would come after.

“If I said yes,” Jongho wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “And you killed me...what then? What would you do to my village? Would you take another one away?”

San’s silence was the only answer he needed.

“Why?” Jongho asked, his throat tightening. “Why do you take us?”

“Because,” San said, his head bowing. His red streaked hair fluttered over his eyes. “I am lonely. I wish for what you have. A family. Someone to wait for me to return.”

“What about other Jorogumo?” Jongho asked.

“We are territorial,” San replied. “And our females kill and eat the males when we mate. I do not like the females.”

Jongho stared at his hands. He couldn’t imagine it – to be killed by the first woman he ever took to bed. He hadn’t slept with many – only the smith’s daughter, and once with the tavern girl when he’d gone a little too deep into his cups after his father’s death. Past that, he’d held off on his indulgences. The carnal pleasures of sex wasn’t worth an early marriage, let alone dying for it.

“I asked my mother once,” San spoke up. The clicking of his fidgeting legs had stopped, but his willowy fingers were curling around each other. “She told me it doesn’t hurt – because our venom makes it feel good. But...I am not sure I believe it. How would she know? She was never eaten.”

“I’m glad humans don’t eat each other,” Jongho said with a half smile.

“I envy that,” San sighed. “It must be nice...”

“You’ve never...?” Jongho imagined San hadn’t. If what he said was true, then San probably didn’t want to have sex with another Jorogumo.

“No,” San said, watching the fire. “But I have seen humans in the forest – two men, hiding from others. They do it...very differently, do they not?”

Jongho flushed. _Yes,_ he thought numbly. He had indulged – oh, he had indulged – until the young man grew guilty and slept with the same woman enough times to get her pregnant. He got married and never looked at Jongho again. They had two kids now.

“I saw it, and I wanted it,” San said. “But no Jorogumo male would want it. And no human would want _me_.”

The thought pushed into Jongho’s mind too fast for him to stop it. He imagined himself tangled in San’s many legs – he wondered if Jorogumo’s had the same sex organs. In his abrupt fantasy, they did, and Jongho—

He held his hand over the fire to check how hot it was and prayed San hadn’t seen him lapse. His heart was racing, and Jongho tried to push away the bud of curiosity that had sprouted in the dark part of his mind. His face felt hot, and there was a bubble of something familiar in his gut. He didn’t understand why San’s words had caused him to become aroused. It was foolish. It was scary. And yet, Jongho wasn’t _disgusted_. He wondered if that made _him_ disgusting.

As Jongho cooked, San watched. It was a good distraction from the invasive thoughts – because after all, they were entirely different species. Jongho shouldn’t think of something like this...and yet...

San’s fangs were glinting in the firelight where they jutted out over his lower lip. He wondered about the venom – if it really wasn’t poison and instead would make him feel good. Experimenting had always been one of Jongho’s things. Until now, it hadn’t made him feel embarrassed.

Jongho ate alone. Though he’d asked, San had told him the rabbit was for him. So Jongho ate, while San watched. He tried to ignore the golden eyes on him, but his heart continued to pound like the beat of a hammer. By the time he’d finished his meal, Jongho was beginning to run out of excuses. Normally, he would hide somewhere to touch himself, but San was here. He had to wait until he fell asleep and then he could get off as quietly as he could. He felt ridiculous.

“Would it be strange to say that I...desire you?” San questioned – and in truth, the answer was an absolute _yes_, but Jongho’s flustered body said otherwise.

He held onto his one excuse.

“I don’t see how it’s possible,” Jongho simply replied. “We...We are not the same.”

“I know how,” San said. His legs scratched along the floor. It wasn’t a nervous gesture this time – and Jongho didn’t know why it seemed like a hopeful one to him. “I have thought about it.”

Jongho didn’t know why he was feeling this – why he felt so hot. San was a monster – a creature who took him away from his home. And yet, he had to adjust the position of his knees to hide the distinct lump in his trousers. He was curious – frighteningly so.

San took another step towards him. Jongho felt exposed. The spindly fingers of San’s hand threaded into his hair. It felt good. Jongho leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.

“San,” he said quietly. “I am afraid.”

San’s fingers paused. “Of me?” He sounded sad – regretful.

“Of this,” Jongho admitted. “Of what...I am thinking of.”

San’s touch resumed. “Do not be. If you wish, I will show you how our venom makes us feel. You can decide later. I will only give you a little. Let me see your hand.”

Jongho stared down at his palms. He felt insane. He felt foolish. Yet, he was curious.

He held up his hand. San’s twig-like fingers curled around his palm. Jongho thought about watching but he closed his eyes and waited. His heart pounded hard and fast. He felt the Jorogumo’s breath on his palm. He gave in and peeked just as San sank a single, black fang into the flesh of his palm. Jongho winced at the initial pain and the instant spread of hot fire into his veins. By the time San had pulled the fang out, the fire was already spreading down his arm.

Heat. Heat and pleasure. Jongho gasped and clutched his hand against his chest. His mind spun – his body ached. Each pulse of his heart was a throb of something so hot – so erotic that Jongho moaned as he fell onto his back. San’s hands gently scooped him up, and the sensation of those fingers along his back left him squirming.

“San,” Jongho begged. “San—San please...”

“No,” San whispered. “When you come out of this, I will ask if you want this. But not now.”

Jongho whimpered. His skin was crawling, and he could swear he was covered in tiny spiders making their way beneath his clothes. He squirmed in the nest of webs, clutching his hand and _wanting_. San’s hands had left him – and he didn’t know where he’d gone. Jongho couldn’t see the Jorogumo anywhere inside the cave. He’d been abandoned. His hand touched himself through his trousers. But no matter how many orgasms he pulled out of himself, there always seemed to be more.

Jongho _wanted_.

...

He didn’t know how long it took for the few drops of venom to leave his system. He faded in and out of delirium, calling out for San when he woke, and moaning softly when he slipped into a grey, half-sleep. When he came down from his high, he was tired, sweaty, and feeling very alone. His mouth was dry, and San still wasn’t inside the cave. Jongho stumbled to his feet and followed the sound of trickling water. He didn’t know if the spring water was safe, but he was thirsty enough that he swiftly swallowed two scoops in his cupped hands before he sat back against a lichen covered rock. The damp leaked through his clothing, but it was a pleasant sensation after the heat that had filled his body.

He remembered all of it, despite how out of it he’d been. He was grateful. San had promised to show him what it would feel like to experience his venom – and he’d done exactly that. He hadn’t taken advantage of his delirium to enjoy Jongho’s body. He smiled softly and ran a wet hand through his hair.

He drifted off in the tunnel. The trickling of the stream and the coolness against his back was a gentle comfort. While he slept, San returned – and Jongho woke again to a panicked cry.

“Jongho? Jongho?!”

San’s voice was shrill – like the screech of an eagle. Jongho stumbled groggily to his feet. The scratches of San’s legs were frantic, and the Jorogumo’s golden sclera were dominated by his black pupil. As Jongho stepped into the light, San spotted him, and the tapping and clicking paused for only a moment.

“Jongho—” San sighed in relief. He rushed to him – a flurry of legs – and his hands pulled Jongho off his feet. He hugged him tightly and cradled him against his chest. Jongho flushed and patted his shoulder.

“I went to get a drink and fell asleep by the spring,” Jongho admitted. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“I thought you had tried to climb out,” San said, still holding him close. The floor looked so far away, but Jongho didn’t feel scared. “I thought I...made a mistake.”

“I’m fine,” Jongho replied.

“I had to leave you. I did not trust myself.”

“It’s okay.” The spot where San’s fang had cut into his palm had already scabbed over. He brushed it with his thumb. It was still tender and sent a prickle of need sliding through him. He laid his head on San’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“San...if...if you wanted to...do that...with me...it’s okay.” Jongho said quietly.

“Are you not afraid?” San asked.

“No,” Jongho said, and he was being honest this time. “I trust you.”

San’s hand stroked through his hair and Jongho suppressed a shiver. He wondered if enough of the venom was still in him to make him touch sensitive.

“We will go somewhere comfortable,” San said, then he twisted and deposited Jongho onto his back. Jongho held on, not even worried when San began to climb the thread towards the web above their heads.

The spider silk mural of the sky peeled out before Jongho’s eyes once more. He climbed without hesitation onto it and felt his way over to one of the fluffier clouds and sat down. His heart was racing, and a nervous hum was running through him. The first time he’d been up here, San had held his hands and said he hoped someday Jongho wouldn’t be afraid when he touched him. Jongho was trembling now, but it wasn’t from fear.

San stepped over to him. His figure blocked out the light from the glowing mushrooms on the ceiling. Jongho leaned away and fell back against the silk cloud. San’s long fingers laid on either side of his head. Up close, his gold sclera reminded him of a sunrise. His dark hair hung from his forehead like a curtain.

“You are certain...?” San asked, his voice whisper quiet.

Jongho nodded and held up his hand. San took it between his hands and traced the scab still in his palm.

“Did you like it?” San asked, studying his palm.

“Y-Yeah,” Jongho admitted.

“I will give you more this time,” San said. Then he leaned down and licked over Jongho’s hand.

He shivered. The Jorogumo’s tongue was hot and damp. It was long, too. Jongho watched it stretch and curl like a dark snake as it tasted his skin and licked over his fingers. Jongho tried not to think about San’s tongue in other places.

Jongho saw his fangs glint just before both of them punctured into his wrist. This time, San didn’t pull his fangs out right away. He waited – and Jongho felt the burning slide through his blood with the white-hot intensity of a mountain river.

“Oh—Oh—” Jongho gasped. San let go. Heat filled his body. Jongho was on fire. His body pulsed and thrummed, and he nearly screamed at how painfully turned on he had become. He scrambled for the tie on his shirt. His body was too hot for clothes – too hot for _anything_. With trembling fingers, he stripped off his shirt and threw it aside. The silk against his bare back had him squirming. San’s hands held onto his biceps and kept him from moving. Jongho moaned weakly at the sensation as he kicked off his pants with a frightening amount of desperation.

“I gave you too much...” San breathed. “I am sorry...I should—”

“_Don’t—_” Jongho gasped, his fingers scrabbling against San’s arms in an effort to grip them. His nails didn’t even scratch his exoskeleton. “_San—Please!_ Don’t leave—”

“Shh...” San stroked his sweaty bangs from his eyes, and Jongho trembled at the touch. He could feel every little hair at the tip of San’s fingers – the hairs that helped him stick to walls and webs. With one arm now freed, Jongho reached up and grabbed San’s tangle of black hair. It felt coarse and silky in his fingers. He pulled his head down and met him in the middle. Mindful of the Jorogumo’s fangs, Jongho licked over his lips. He tasted strange – earthy and pungent. Jongho didn’t hate it. San paused only for a moment before suckling on the tip of Jongho’s tongue. Slowly, he became more desperate. The tingling along his skin took on a new intensity. He could feel spiders all over him – tiny, crawling spiders that nipped and bit and touched and scratched. When he looked, nothing was there, but he _felt_ them. He clutched the back of San’s neck and whimpered.

“Please...” he gasped. “_Please_.”

“Can you wait?” San whispered. His fingertips stroked down his back. Each sensation had him shivering. Jongho craved more.

“N-No,” Jongho replied.

San laughed softly. “You will have to. Sit still.”

Jongho whined as San stopped touching him. He gripped onto the woven silk cloud and yanked it against himself. He rolled in it as a feeble attempt to keep his body from sending him a thousand sensations at once. The silk felt good. He rolled his hips into it and moaned pathetically. It wasn’t enough, but he kept rutting and looked up to see what San was doing.

Up on the wall, San was building a new web. He pulled silk from the back of his abdomen and stretched it in a large starburst from the surface of the mural, up to the ceiling. It already touched both walls. Jongho watched him work, knowing the web was for him.

San worked quickly. Within a few minutes, the web was set up and supported by no less than thirty, shiny strands of silk. San climbed across the web, weaving in the structure – creating something that resembled the spider webs that Jongho was more familiar with. He watched, hypnotized, and feeling his body burning as he kept rolling his hips into the silk cloud. The texture was delightful – it brought him so close to the edge, but kept him just beneath it. Jongho resisted the urge to touch himself.

When San had finished the web, he returned for Jongho. He scooped him up in his arms and climbed up the web. He pressed his back into the center, and Jongho felt the distinct sensation of stickiness. His legs went next, spread akimbo and leaving him open. His arms were stretched out next to him, leaving him trapped in an eagle spread position. He tugged on his wrists, but the sticky web held fast. San hovered in front of him, held up by his eight spider legs. His hands were left free to touch Jongho’s face and stroke the hair from his eyes. Jongho trembled, and the web shuddered with him.

San leaned closer. His tongue slid past his lips, stretching longer than a foot. Jongho felt a wild urge – a repulsive, yet desperate desire. San’s tongue licked over his lips and Jongho didn’t hesitate to part them. San’s hot tongue slid into his mouth, and Jongho whimpered around it. He licked over the bottom, tasting and sucking on every inch the Jorogumo gave to him. San watched him; his pupils blown with desire – with a lust Jongho hadn’t seen in a creature like him. It made him feel wanted – and Jongho wanted more.

He swallowed as San’s tongue slid further down his throat. He gagged, but swiftly adapted to the sensation. He held his breath, focused on the feeling of San’s tongue down his throat. He groaned weakly around it. San was gasping, and he never once took his eyes off Jongho’s lips, watching him swallow his tongue.

Jongho whimpered as San’s hands began to explore his body. He felt every finger and the subtle pressure of each one. They traced his collar bones and down his pectorals. Jongho choked when San’s fingers touched his nipples. His hypersensitive body turned the delicate brush the Jorogumo’s fingertips into something on the cusp of unbearable.

San’s tongue slid from his mouth. Allowed to breathe, Jongho moaned on every exhale. The sounds grew louder the more San played with his nipples. He squirmed and tugged at the sticky web, but they were as solid as shackles. Each movement of San’s fingers sent another storm of tiny spiders along his body. His moans swiftly turned into cries, and his cock twitched desperately for release. He tried to roll his hips out but only succeeded in making the web shake.

“_San—!_” Jongho sobbed. “San—please—”

“Shh...” San whispered in his ear. He stopped playing with his nipples, but the pulses of white-hot need remained with every heartbeat. Jongho whimpered and felt the warm sensation of San’s tongue on his cheeks, lapping up his tears. When his eyes cleared, he trembled. Though he’d stopped asking the ‘how’s when San had dosed him with his venom, he had his answer. In the middle of the area where San’s torso met his abdomen, a space had opened up. A phallus, dark and long, curved upwards from the place that had once held perfectly smooth exoskeleton. It was similar in shape to that of a human’s, except that it tapered to a thin point with a small hole at the tip that expanded and contracted. Something wet was coming out of the tip. It dripped down in a clear fluid to the thick base and clung to the skin.

“I desire you, Jongho,” San breathed, and Jongho could only nod. The Jorogumo had sex organs. Jongho knew how this was going to happen. It didn’t make him any less turned on.

The shift of the web, and the soft scratch of spider feet announced San’s departure. Jongho tried to see where he was going, but his head was still stuck to the web. He closed his eyes and listened, trying to keep in his needy whimpers. He felt more than he saw San’s return. He had gone to the other side of the web. Spider feet brushed along his back. He gasped, and then felt the touch of hands on the backs of his shoulders. They were upside-down. San was above him. His hands slid down – down to the small of his back, and down to the backs of his thighs. Jongho gasped softly as the hands turned upwards. His ass cheeks parted.

While he was unprepared for the penetration, the tapered shape of the Jorogumo’s slick cock kept it from hurting. The tip slid inside first. San’s breathy whimper sang into his ear. He pushed deeper when Jongho’s body allowed him to and adjusted to each stage of the stretch.

“You’re so warm...” San moaned. His arms slid around Jongho’s front and clutched him back against his chest. “Oh, Jongho...”

Jongho’s body throbbed with pleasure. His ass ached, but it was a distant feeling. Inside of him, he felt the twitching tip of the Jorogumo’s cock. The slick slide of the wet substance coating it helped push it inwards. San’s hips eventually touched his thighs. Jongho felt his phallus press up against the inside of his stomach and jut out before it curved of its own accord and slid into place. The movements of it stroking him in places he didn’t know could be touched had Jongho trembling. It pulsed, and something wet slid down the backs of his thighs. San moaned again.

Jorogumo’s did not thrust. The length inside of him expanded and contracted, pressing and releasing every sensitive area inside of him again and again. Jongho trembled, his body clenching hard around San’s pulsing cock. The cave filled with their moans. Jongho felt the visceral need to come and rutted his hips backwards into San’s body.

“San,” Jongho moaned. “Touch me...There. Down there. Please.”

San reached down and wrapped his fingers around Jongho’s cock. In an explosive reaction, Jongho clenched hard and the pulse of San’s cock grew more intense. He felt it like a rapid heartbeat – like a slow vibration slowly pushing him towards an edge he was eager to run to. It took barely ten strokes and Jongho was coming. His body shuddered around the length of San’s cock. San held him closer – tight enough that Jongho almost couldn’t breathe.

When San came, it was with a moan and the biggest, longest expansion of his cock yet. Jongho felt his stomach bulge outwards, and the stretch of the Jorogumo inside of him pressed against his sensitive prostate. He whimpered. San’s grip on him slowly released, and his phallus began to slide out of him. He felt the drips down his thighs and shuddered.

“You are perfect...” San breathed in his ear.

“Unstick me,” Jongho panted.

San laughed softly and reached for the pressure points keeping him locked into place. As Jongho came undone, he clung to the web like ropes and turned around. On the other side of the web, San watched him. He looked nervous. Jongho stuck his head through one of the broad gaps and dropped his head onto his shoulder.

“Take me to the nest...?” Jongho requested, feeling exhausted.

“I wish to stay here a moment longer,” San said.

Jongho hummed and clung to the web holding him up and leaned against San’s chest. “Okay,” he said quietly.

He fell asleep like that, and when he woke groggily hours later, he was cradled in the Jorogumo’s arms on a pile of woven silk clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, all of you. This was a very experimental fic for me; I've never written a monster fic before. Thank you for all of your never-ending support.  
(And I couldn't have done it without CAW, either <3 I love you guys so much <3)


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